Nodding to the men and gripping the shoulders of one or two of his old comrades Bassano, looked around the room. “So Amitus” he said, sitting on the end of a bench as several of the men shoved each other to move along to make space “what is the plan?” he asked to the bearded man at the head of the table, his bone handled dagger positioned in front of a small devotion candle which was placed in the middle of the table, a smell of lavender coming from the oil in the rustic bowl next to it.
Amitus glanced at the men around the table, his eyes dark in the half light. “Tomorrow at dawn Tolero and Rutilius will be taken to the Curia” he started as a low grumble came from the seated men. “Postumius will deliver his speech condemning them for attacking a Tribune and a Quaestor and then they will start the process. Darcius” at which he nodded to a short man with a bald head and thick eyebrows “says the sacrifice is to be completed by the Flamens and the ceremony will take ten minutes so we need to act before that time. Any later and the gods will not be pleased” he added as several men fumbled with rue sprigs or other talismans to their favourite deities, some mumbling a quick prayer to avert the eyes of the vengeful gods.
“We can’t get them out of the gaol tonight?” Bassano asked, his eyes staring at the leader of the meeting.
“Unlikely Centurion” Amitus said. “They have several guards and are in the deep pit at the Tullianum and the ropes and wheel have been removed. To get them out we would need a small army and a lot of luck” he added solemnly as his head shook slowly from side to side.
“Then tomorrow it is” Bassano said. “And what is the exact plan?” he added as he looked at the faces of the men around the room, all of them ex-soldiers from the Bolae campaign.
****
The sword arced but Postumius simply stepped inside the arm of his attacker and punched his sword through the breastplate of his assailant, the man melting into the background as he fell. Another attacker lunged forwards, his face split by yellowed teeth and narrowed eyes, the shout indistinct in the noise of battle. The man’s spear was tipped with a rusty point, and as Postumius wafted the heavy iron aside with his shield he shook his head at the lack of preparation the soldier had given to his weapon, surely such a man should have been flogged for his lassitude. The spear rose in the air as the face of the enemy turned to surprise and then to fear as Postumius strode forward, his thighs strong and thick, like Achilles he thought, and dispatched the spear holder with a thrust through the heart, grinning at the man’s scream as he fell to the dusty earth. Several more attackers appeared, some falling back with fear in their eyes, others running forwards for glory, or death.
“Master.” The voice was low and respectful but loud enough to wake Postumius from his deep sleep. As the final attacker thrust his spear towards Postumius he smiled as he opened his eyes to see the dark room of his bedchamber.
“Is it time?” he asked, his senses bringing him to the present as he blinked away the happy thoughts of his invincible dream.
“Yes Master” said the slave as he placed a towel next to the bowl of steaming water on the pedestal near the bed.
“My armour?” Postumius asked.
“Gleaming brighter than the morning sun in summer” smiled the slave, his head nodding at the hours he had spent deep into the night polishing the brass and oiling the leather of Postumius’ Tribunes’ uniform.
Postumius grunted as he sat up and took a sip of the cool water handed to him by the slave, the cold liquid waking him as it hit his tongue and took away the dryness of the night. “Excellent. Light another candle to Mars and tell the cook to boil eggs, I fancy eggs before I go out today” he said, the slave nodding as he placed a garment on the bed and bowed as he stepped backwards towards the door.
“And hot bread” Postumius called, a grin coming to his lips as he considered the day and what it would bring.
The house woke soon after Postumius, the slaves working the fires and adding oils to the lamps. Postumius strode around the house, his energy growing as the sun began to creep over the horizon. All he could think about was the spectacle of the day, the deaths of the men who had attacked him in the forum and how right and proper it was that they died in full view of their plebeian supporters. Soldiers needed order and punishment was the best way to gain order, he thought to himself.
He shifted the wax tablet which he had placed on the table in front of him and mumbled the words as his slave rolled the boiled egg and began to remove the shell. “People of Rome. Citizens, Senators” he said in a low voice as he considered changing the words to place Senators ahead of the citizens. He knew his speech would be the talk of Rome for many weeks and it had to be perfect if he were to raise his case to move into the Senatorial ranks. “Senators, Citizens” he said with a curt nod “the gods have decreed the punishment for these men. Men who swore an oath to Rome and to their fellow soldiers and then broke it” his shoulder twitched as his mind went through the action of throwing his right arm out theatrically at this point to increase the effect of the words, a grin coming to his face.
“Father” came a sleepy voice as Megellus entered the room, his hair still tangled from his sleep and his eyes showing his excitement as he strode into the room, his face set into a firm smile but his stoic posture attempting to show his stature as a patrician of Rome, even to his father.
“Ah, Megellus” Postumius said, kicking a chair away from the table with his right foot and motioning for his son to sit. “These eggs are cooked to perfection” he said as he pointed to a wooden bowl filled with the small white, shell less, objects. “You and mother must be ready for the sacrifices, it will do you good to see the augurs and priests at their work” he said as he continued to read the words on his tablet whilst munching on a chunk of bread he had torn from the small loaf in front of him, the steam rising into the rapidly lighting room as the sun continued to rise above the houses outside.
“Will it be” Megullus asked, his eyes looking to the table and then to his father, who had stopped eating and turned to face his son “horrible?” he finished.
Postumius contemplated the question, one that had not crossed his mind as to him the fate of the men was of their own choosing and the punishment was as befitted the crime. He looked to his son, the small mouth set in a fixed demeanour as he tried to appear brave. War made men hard, Postumius thought. They saw death and destruction every day, becoming almost immune to the smell and sights of it, however terrible they were. Yes some men struggled to come to terms with the worst atrocities, often drowning their nightmares in endless nights of debauchery and drunkenness, but this was the way of the world, life was hard, the gods were fickle and could turn your success to failure in the blink of an eye. He looked at his son again and smiled. “Yes Megellus” he said. “It will be horrible to see a man crushed under the stones.” He placed his hand on his sons and smiled at him. “You must understand that the gods have decreed this action and the punishment is fitting for the men who attacked us in the Forum and tried to kill us.” He picked up an egg and placed it in the small bowl in front of Megellus and nodded for him to eat. “When you are older, my son, you will look back on today and what you see and you will know that it is right for us to smite our enemies and to put fear in their hearts. The actions decreed by the law must be carried out in the manner of the punishment, however terrible it may seem to your young eyes.” He considered his son for a moment as the boy sliced the egg into three pieces and placed one of the slices on a small chunk of warm bread before starting to eat it. “Death comes easily but we choose the manner of our death by our actions and our choices” he said as he looked into his sons eyes “the gods decide our fate and we play our part in determining the timing and manner of our successes and failures” he said as his sons eyes opened with wonder at the words. “These men are the stones in the river that tumble as the water rushes over them, wearing them to grains of sand whilst Patricians stride the river with the favour of the gods” he said with such conviction that Megellus’s m
outh fell open at the words.
“Today will be hard my son” he said “the deaths of the men will be terrible, they will scream and cry, the crowds will wail and gnash their teeth and the bodies will be like nothing you have ever seen. But, Megellus” he said as he reached across and placed his hand on the boys shoulder “you must sit tall in your seat and look down on these men as grains of sand being washed away by the river as you stand proud across it, your grandfather and great grandfather and all the generations of the Postumii standing beside you. You will be strong my son, I know you will” he said, his own deep brown eyes reflecting back at him from those of his son.
****
Marcus felt the pang of guilt that he felt every morning when he saw the beggars in the streets, some missing limbs, others blind but most emaciated due to lack of food. He strode past two men too weak to raise their bowls and shook his head, their Greek features suggesting they were mercenaries who had fared badly in some recent campaign. The streets were quiet as the sun was only just starting to rise above the hills, the dawn chorus of birdsong still fresh in the air.
“These beggars should be cleared from the streets Camillus” Regillensis said as the two men headed for the Curia, their thick cloaks billowing in the strong breeze as a small retinue of attendants and slaves followed behind them. “When we are Censors we should take it as our first act to clean the streets of these men” he said as he shook his head at another beggar in a pile of his own urine and faeces, the stench filling the doorway in which he lay.
“I agree” Marcus said with a wrinkled nose as he moved past the man quickly. “We need to be elected first though” he laughed as Regillensis laughed with him. “I think we should also look at how we can continue the building of tenements for the soldiers, they need houses and there are too few in the city” he added as his eyes looked to the sky. “We will be very early” he said to his partner as they started to cross the Vicus Cuprius, the high sided buildings giving way to lower dwellings with the high walls of the richer families.
“Better to be early so that we can greet all the Senators and tell them of our plans to rid the streets of the beggars” Regillensis replied rubbing his hands as he turned left and started to climb a short steep rise.
Out of the corner of his eye Marcus saw a movement which momentarily confused him, the sudden flash of light disappearing almost as quickly as it had come. Turning his head he suddenly stopped, causing Regillensis to turn and stare at him.
“What is it?” he asked as he frowned at Marcus, who was looking into an alleyway to his left. Marcus didn’t answer but stepped to the entrance to the alleyway as two of their guards stepped forwards and stood shoulder to shoulder with him.
“Probably nothing” Marcus replied as he squinted into the darkness, the alley suddenly seeming cold and empty as the road behind the houses rose away into the gloom.
“Come on then” called Regillensis as he set off up the rise his sandals slapping on the cobbles as the slaves hurried behind him.
****
“That was close” whispered Felix as he took a cloth bundle from behind a wooden box, the old wood soft and covered in mildew.
“Too close, but a good omen that Camillus didn’t see us” came the reply from the man crouched next to him in the darkness, both men starting to breathe again now that the men who had suddenly appeared at the entrance to the alley had moved on.
Felix untied the straps and loosened the cloth to reveal several swords and a large spike, the wooden shaft only a foot long. He grinned as he re-tied the bundle and passed it to Bassano, who hefted the heavy bundle and stood, his eyes still peering into the light at the end of the alleyway. “Let’s get moving” he said as the two men set off up the hill behind them “we need to have the men armed before the sacrifices start”.
****
Postumius looked at his armour, every curve shining in the lamp light and each leather tie polished to its best. He nodded approvingly as he half-smiled at the slave, his head bowed but eyes searching for approval.
“Good” he said, to the obvious relief of the tunic wearing slave who bowed and moved to the door taking a thick brown cloak from the peg and handing it to the door slave who would fasten it across his master’s shoulders.
“Don’t be too long” Postumius called to his wife, who was fussing with Megellus’ hair which seemed to have a mind of its own despite the thick layer of oil that had been applied. “The sacrifices will start within the hour and the punishments will be twenty minutes after that” he added as he walked across to the room in which Megellus was pushing firmly at his hair, which obstinately refused to lie flat.
As he turned to leave Postumius felt something knock against his foot and heard a dull clunk as a knee high jar of oil toppled and landed heavily on the floor, the oil gushing into the hallway as he stepped quickly away from the glutinous liquid, his eyes filling with rage as he almost danced backwards from the thick tide of yellow oil.
“Who left that there?” he yelled, the slaves pulling back from him and fear coming to their faces.
“Master” supplicated a female her body laying flat against the floor, her hair dark against the light marble and her chest heaving with obvious fear.
“Get it cleaned up” he yelled as his wife stood and moved across, fear in her eyes that her husband might lash out at the expensive slave.
“Wait Publius” she said, her voice almost tearful as her hands clasped together and she followed her husband towards the door. “You cannot go now” she half cried, her voice low and demure despite the anguish it held. “The omen” she exclaimed as she glanced at the oil and then held out her hands to Postumius, the rage still showing in his eyes. He glanced at her before looking to his sandals, the clean leather showing no traces of oil.
“Don’t talk such nonsense” he replied as he shook his head and pointed at the prone slave girl “and get her to clean up that mess before she does any more damage to the house” he said, his eyes falling on his wife and his face softening. “I’m sorry my love, you know I don’t believe in old women’s tales, I’ve seen too much death to think that spilling oil in the house is an omen of bad luck.” Postumius kissed his wife on the cheek as he spoke, her fear still evident in her face as she looked at him. “Be quick, and don’t be late” he said as he turned to the door and clicked his fingers for the guards to take positions ahead of him as the door opened to reveal three more thick-set ex-soldiers waiting in the street outside.
****
“The crowd is bigger than I expected” Regillensis said with a modicum of fear in his voice as he and Marcus stared from their seats on the raised plinth erected for the Patricians to watch the executions.
“Why so?” replied Marcus. “This is the biggest spectacle the Plebeians will have before they leave for Veii, I’m surprised the whole city isn’t marching down the hill to see this” he added with a shrug.
Regillensis smiled and nodded to Marcus “there’s Atratinus, Camillus. Don’t forget he offered personal funds to rebuild the lower docks by the temple of Aesculapius” he added in a quiet voice “use that as a starting point for his vote” he said with a light touch on Marcus’s arm. The two men had discussed which Senators they should approach to discuss votes in the coming Censorial elections and Atratinus was a key contact that they needed to get on their side.
“Right, see you later” Marcus said as he stepped forwards with purpose towards his man. As he moved forwards, he saw the shape of Postumius rise from the steps to his right just in front of Atratinus, a knot of guards moving back from the steps as Postumius started to climb them. Seeing Marcus move purposefully towards him, Postumius mistook the beaming smile as a mark of respect and returned the smile warily and held out his hand as Marcus approached. Taken aback by the sudden action Marcus took the hand and shook it vigorously as Postumius looked at him with an interested expression.
“Well, Marcus Furius Camillus I am surprised to see you here so early” he said quite loud
ly as his eyes glanced to the Senators who were milling around the platform “though I am delighted to have your attendance” he quickly added.
“It is a sad day, but the law is the law and the gods must be appeased” Marcus said with humility as Postumius nodded, again surprised at how friendly Marcus was being. Before he could speak, Senator Atratinus moved across and slapped Postumius on the shoulder, his beaming smile extending to Marcus as he shook hands with both men and exchanged pleasantries.
“You two commanders exchanging old war stories?” he asked with a welcoming smile as Postumius turned to the older man.
“Indeed” replied Marcus, his mind racing to see how he could use this moment to ingratiate himself with the Senator “though Publius Postumius is the hero of the hour, his hammer blow to Bolae is an example to us all” he said magnanimously as Postumius looked to him with a quizzical frown before accepting the comment graciously.
“I hear you did well at Ferentium too?” the Senator asked as he moved his hand to his leg, the old ache starting again. Noticing the movement, Marcus smiled and suggested “Let us sit and discuss the campaign, I am sure Publius has more important matters to attend to on this day than listening to our chit chat” he said with a tilt of his head and a smile to Postumius, who simply nodded his assent and bade the two men farewell as he moved away to the rostra to check the position for his speech.
****
The rope strained as Tolero, his thick muscles cold from sleeping on the hard floor of the Tullianum, gripped the metal cage which was hauling him from the prison, the small light above him from the hatch into the pit growing larger as he moved towards it. He growled and bit his lip, the stubble on his chin catching his teeth as he swallowed, his throat dry and coarse. His mind whirled through a series of thoughts, how to escape, how to get a message to his family and how to die if all else failed. He had discussed the issue with Rutilius in the dark of the pit when the ghosts of the dead were roaming and moaning in their minds. In the total darkness and they had both agreed to die in silence as a protest against Postumius and his actions. Better to give the crowd a poor show as a mark of honour and strength than to die screaming, they had both agreed. He blinked, closing his eyes as the light burst into his vision as soon as his head appeared above the hatch to the pit, his grip getting tighter on the metal as he did so.
The Fall of Veii- Part 1 Page 24